


by the colors

by depthsofgreen



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, M/M, Scarf Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 04:38:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10209779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/depthsofgreen/pseuds/depthsofgreen
Summary: Edward Nygma loves a neck. He realizes clothing Oswald in gorgeous scarves is a safe way to explore his darker impulses.





	

_plum silk_.

It starts off innocently enough: Edward Nygma, on a Sunday afternoon in October, walking the streets of Gotham. A scarf draped around a bare mannequin in a small shop window catches his eye. Ed has no real eye for fashion, but the color stops him dead in his tracks: a deep plum, warm in hue, contrasting splendidly against the eggshell white of the figure it hangs upon.

Ed steps into the shop as if compelled by divine force, slender fingers reaching for the fabric, shivering with delight at the smooth cool silk and the softness of it at his fingerpads.

He wants nothing more than to see it wrapped around Oswald’s neck, shining and luxurious.

He brings it home wrapped in delicate tissue paper, hands atremble, and presents it to Oswald without a word, a smile tugging at his lips.

Oswald opens it with urgency, as he does most things, letting the paper fall to the floor as he unwraps the scarf, wrapping it around his hands with a contented sigh and stroking it with his fingers.

“Oh, Ed,” Oswald breathes, eyes sparkling, “It’s beautiful.”

“The color made me think of you,” Ed admits, stepping forward to feel the fabric again. “May I?”

Oswald lifts his chin and presents his neck, half-bared beneath the collar of his top. Ed wraps the scarf around him, knotting it once, twice, three times, fingers brushing against the tender skin at his throat with each gentle fold in.

Oswald looks as striking as Ed had hoped, the warm red-purple of the cloth brightening his eyes and bringing out the pinks in his pale skin.

“What a vision you make,” Ed says, words hushed, heavy with awe.

The pinks of Oswald’s face deepen into reds, and Ed grabs the hanging ends of the scarf ‘round his neck, tugging Oswald close enough to kiss him, tongue licking at his nether lip and then inside his warm mouth.

Oswald’s hand grips at his hip, lips moving to meet his.

Ed tugs the scarf tails tighter, heart pounding in his throat.

 _red cashmere_.

Ed becomes obsessed. Strolling into Oswald’s bedroom to swathe the scarf around him becomes a morning ritual. Ed experiments with new knots, shifting the hang of it from left to right to middle depending on his mood, relishing every second spent with Oswald’s neck at his mercy, to drape in silk as he will.

If Ed tugs too roughly some mornings, wrapping it closed a little too tightly, Oswald shows no signs of noticing, thanking Ed with a soft kiss and a slightly embarrassed giggle each time.

Ed comes home one morning with a new scarf from a different shop, this one thick and red and made of the softest cashmere Ed has ever felt.

He’s enfolding it up and over Oswald’s head with no preamble as soon as he reaches him, Oswald laughing in some disbelief at his sheer _eagerness_ but complying all the same.

Ed steps back, drinks in the sight, the red bright and brilliant, the white of Oswald’s skin all the paler around it, the head of hair above it darker.

“What’s black and white and red all over?” Ed asks, laughing when Oswald rolls his starry eyes, fingers reaching for the buttons of his jacket.

Ed rips the jacket off, rough and quick, then the shirt beneath. Oswald’s face colors.

“A naked penguin wearing only _this_ ,” Ed says, answering his own question with renewed laughter as he brings his hands back up to the fabric of the scarlet scarf, squeezing it tighter.

Oswald’s blush spreads from his cheeks down to his chest when Ed nibbles at the underside of his jaw and pulls his pants and briefs down. Ed wraps one tail end of the scarf around his wrist and sinks to his knees, taking Oswald into his mouth. He pulls down at the fabric firmly as he determinedly sucks Oswald to full hardness.

Oswald gasps above him, strained by the tightening pressure of the scarf still around his neck.

Ed goes hot all over at the taste and weight of Oswald on his tongue, his struggling breaths, and, most of all, at the thought of that thin neck, caught as it is in a stranglehold between the scarf and Ed’s tugging wrist.

“E-Ed - “ Oswald gasps, voice thin, labored. Helpless.

Ed comes, untouched, in his pants, jaw bobbing and wrist pulling all the faster.

 _gold satin_.

The feel of this one beneath his hands is slippery, the shade a deep gold so breathtaking it reminds Ed of a royal crown, awe-inspiring and vibrating with gilded power.

He needs to have it around Oswald’s neck immediately.

Ed strips Oswald first this time, then bends him over the edge of his bed, encircling the golden satin around the front of his neck and tying it in a sharp knot at the back, pulling, pulling, pulling -

Oswald sputters.

“Too tight?” Ed asks, hands stilling.

“No,” Oswald manages after a moment, voice weak but tone confident. “I’m good.”

Ed gives a final tug at that, pants dropping around his ankles and cock already hard when Oswald lets out a pleading, desperate grunt.

“Fuck me, Ed,” Oswald chokes, back arching, “Please.”

“I fully intend to,” Ed assures him, lifting the scarfs edges and letting them fall and trail down the cream-white of his back, soft tips brushing at Oswald’s rounded ass cheeks.

Ed lubes up three fingers, sticks them in all at once, Oswald’s hole a breathing rose of flesh around his digits, quivering as Ed tugs, gently then harder, at the fabric, Oswald’s head pulled back with the force of it. Ed spreads his fingers inside him, Oswald’s insides stretching, his contented “ _yes, Ed, more_ ” throttled by the textile tugged so tight around his airway.

Ed pulls his fingers out, opens Oswald up, cock sliding in, Oswald squealing with effort, undulating waves of reddened pleasure blazing at Ed’s center as he drives out and in and out again, the tight heat of Oswald’s insides incomparable to anything Ed has ever felt before.

He bends down over Oswald, hips jetting fast, and presses his face into the cloth of the scarf, bunched up in a knot at the back of Oswald’s neck. Ed bites down on the fabric, hard, willing himself not to come too quickly. The bite only makes the squeeze of the scarf around Oswald tighter, Oswald’s hole clamping down around Ed’s cock.

“E-Ed - un - untie it - too - too much - “ Oswald chokes, wheezing, and Ed’s fingers fly to loosen the tangled fabric, flinging it open and relieving the pressure all at once.

Oswald breathes in a huge, relieved gasp, like the first breath of life, and then he’s coming, body and insides shaking violently, voice ragged as a volley of incomprehensible words leave his mouth.

Ed nibbles down at the sweat-soaked and pressure-reddened skin at the nape of Oswald’s neck, jabbing into his still-spasming hole until he’s coming, too, shaking from the exertion and muscle-clamping _pleasure_ of it, Oswald spurring him on with performatively coquettish little mewls.

Ed collapses on top of him, panting, eyeing the trail of the scarf where it’s hanging off bed’s edge.

“I suspect the combination of your sweat and my saliva ruined the fabric,” Ed laments.

“I’d say _that_ was worth the loss,” Oswald laughs, words still coming rough, and Ed can only agree.

 _emerald cotton_.

Green has always been Ed’s favorite color, and so rarely does he get the chance to see Oswald in it.

When he finds _this_ scarf, then, vibrant emerald and cushiony to the touch, he nearly goes erect on the spot.

It’s _stunning_ on Oswald, the most flattering one yet, bringing out the myriad green lights in his eyes. Ed is kissing him with heated fervor before he’s even finished tying it closed, breaths coming quick as he guides Oswald toward his bedroom and pushes them both down onto the bed.

Ed breaks the kiss to fiddle at the scarf, tautening it down in what’s become a sexual custom for them.

“Ed,” Oswald speaks, sudden and soft, bringing a hand to his wrist.

Ed stills and looks down at Oswald, curious, Oswald’s eyes alight with something like nervousness.

“What is it, Oswald?”

Several beats of silence. Then -

“You can just use your hands, if you would like,” Oswald replies, eyes bold and lips parted.

“My hands - ?”

“On my neck.”

Ed’s mouth curls, a flood of heat rushing toward his groin, eye falling to the bare patches of soft neck visible beneath the twisted green of the scarf. His heart beats wildly, _want_ consuming him, but ice-cold fear slithers simultaneously up his spine, hands and feet going numb.

“I’m scared I’ll hurt you,” Ed admits, heart breaking.

A memory, unbidden and irrepressible - Kristen, pale eyes vacant and windpipe crushed between Ed’s palms -

Oswald cups his face in his hands.

“I trust you,” Oswald whispers, as if he can see what’s so vividly flashing through Ed’s mind.

“You shouldn’t.”

“But I do,” Oswald smiles, shifting closer. He unwraps the scarf from around his neck, dropping it unceremoniously to the floor. “I trust you. I want this. And I suspect you _need_ it.”

Ed falls silent, eyes dropping to Oswald’s neck, pale, smooth, and exposed -

Oswald grabs his wrists and brings them around his throat.

They stare at each other for what feels like a stretched-on eternity, Ed’s hands hovering with no pressure at the sides of Oswald’s neck, both breathing hard as Oswald’s pulse thrums fast beneath his palm.

“Edward,” Oswald moves all the closer, noses nearly touching. “ _Please_.”

Ed takes a deep breath, lungs filling.

He presses his hands down, just slightly, thumbs curling around the base of Oswald’s throat. Exhilaration rushes through him, skin tingling all over.

Oswald’s mouth drops open. His eyes are wide, burning with blue-green flame and brimming with what Ed can describe only as quickened _life_.

The blank green specter of Kristen’s stare fades. Oswald, bright and glowing, blood pumping loud and hard under his hands, is all Ed can see.

Ed squeezes harder.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer (probably unneeded, but just in case): [real-life breathplay is dangerous](http://queerkink.tumblr.com/post/2862224348/the-qk-guide-to-breath-control-play). Please do your research before trying any of this at home, friends.


End file.
